


Desperate Times

by NikaAnuk



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Asexual Sherlock, Fluff, Gift, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-25 21:47:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaAnuk/pseuds/NikaAnuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shorts inspired more or less by Gwydion's arts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by:
> 
> by Gwydion

He can hear steps in the corridor. They are louder than the whisper full of worry: 'Sherlock?'. Lestrade's voice is something Sherlock almost cannot hear – the drugs are doing weird things to his hearing.  
The steps are closer now and Sherlock knows it is the end. The moment Lestrade sees him like this - on his bathroom floor - the sweet care will end. Sherlock feels rather miserable, he knows he is pathetic but watching his pale arm and the syringe between his legs is making him unable to move.  
The door opens and Sherlock – sitting loosely like a broken toy – does not raise his head. He cannot look Lestrade in the eye. But he hears a sigh and Lestrade throws his things on the washing machine. He comes closer to Holmes and touches his neck checking the pulse.  
He sighs again and gently unknots the string tied on Sherlock's arm. He then slips his arms under Sherlock's knees and behind his back and carries him out of the bathroom. „What were you thinking, Lock?” he asks against the black curls. He does not sound angry, rather sad.  
Sherlock closes his eyes and smiles. Lestrade is still here. Even now.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by:
> 
> by Gwydion

Greg opened his eyes with a strange feeling. When he was living with his sister for a short time, he used to wake up like this when her cat was staring at him during the night. But he did not have a cat.  
He looked around with a groan – it was dark and bloody late and he had two tough days. When he raised his head he noticed Sherlock – sitting on the other end of the bed in pyjamas and a dressing gown with his knees under his chin and arms around his long legs, he looked like a small ball.  
„What's wrong?” Lestrade sat up reaching to Sherlock.  
Holmes watched him for a moment longer, then just shifted nearer Greg and lay down next to him.  
„Nothing. I was trying to deduce you.” he said.  
Lestrade covered the man with a duvet and lay down facing Sherlock.  
„And?”  
„Dull. I still can't understand why you are doing all those things.”  
Lestrade smiled and turned on his back, the greatest detective of his time, always lost like a child when it was about feelings.  
„I just like you” he said closing his eyes.  
„No one _likes_ me, Lestrade”  
Sherlock moved closer and rested his head on Greg's shoulder. There was an agreement that Lestrade – excluding few exceptions – never initiate touch. It was all up to Sherlock if he wanted to be touched or not. And now Lestrade wrapped his arm around Holmes' shoulder and pressed his lips against his head.  
„I do, Sherlock. And now go to sleep.”  
Falling asleep again Lestrade felt Sherlock's finger tracing circles on his chest when the detective was thinking.

 


	3. 3

The room was oddly quiet. Mycroft stood in the doorway awkwardly with the coat hanging on his forearm. Lestrade turned his head and stood up.   
“I'm glad you came” he said and bit his lower lip. “Or I shouldn't have said that, sorry.”  
“No, no, it's fine” Mycroft came closer, watching his brother lying unconsciously in bed. The medical equipment worked quietly and Mycroft was sure he should not feel that uncomfortably around his sick brother. It was not like the whole situation was unfamiliar – Sherlock was in the hospitals before, just... Lestrade's presence was something new.   
The inspector called Mycroft's secretary today and told her that Sherlock was in hospital. Mycroft got this information after the meeting with the Russians and he cancelled the rest of his appointments and went to the hospital.   
“How is he?” he asked standing on the other side of the bed.   
Lestrade wiped his hands on his trousers. He looked pale, the worry gave him at least five years more. Mycroft examined him and turned his gaze to Sherlock. Maybe for the first time his brother would not wake up alone.  
“He... He fainted. He does it occasionally when he doesn't eat. I... Sometimes I can't watch over him...” Lestrade adjusted the duvet nervously. “They are giving him a drip for dehydration and malnutrition.”   
The elder Holmes raised his eyes at the policeman. He did not propose to leave him with Sherlock and Mycroft appreciated it.   
“I'm aware of how hard it is sometimes to take care of my brother, Lestrade. And I'm sure you're doing everything you can for him.” He shot one more gaze at his brother and headed to the door.   
Lestrade turned to him.   
“I'm sure he would be glad to see you when he wakes up...” he said.   
Mycroft stopped in the doorway and looked at the inspector with a pleasant smile.   
“I'm sure he wouldn't, Inspector. The things between us... aren't quite right as you probably know. I'm glad he's taken care of well. I trust you, Inspector” he added and without hesitation he walked out.   
Lestrade watched the door for a moment longer but finally sat down on the edge of the bed.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by:
> 
> by Gwydion

John and Mary chatted quietly, he whispered in her ear and she giggled. Sherlock stood by the window watching them and the rest of the people in the pub. He did not like it at all, it was stupid, all those strange people, and the one he knew best... All of them cramped in a small space and Sherlock started to feel a bit claustrophobic.  
Surrounded by talks and the smell of beer and perfume he did not notice that Lestrade came close to him and stood behind. Just when his arm wrapped around Sherlock's waist the detective half turned his head and Lestrade kissed his cheek.  
„Don't tell me you're not happy with this” he said with a smile resting his chin on Sherlock's shoulder.  
Holmes shrugged lightly but leaned into Lestrade's embrace. He felt a bit better surrounded by those arms and this warmth.　  
„Dull” he said looking at John. „They're all dull.”  
Gregory smiled and shook his head.  
„Emotions aren't dull, Lock” he said. „But I do understand you don't like them.”  
Sherlock nodded.  
„Not at all. People are dull around feelings.”  
„Even me?” Gregory teased raising his head.  
Sherlock turned and winced.  
„You're always dull, Lestrade” he said but kissed him quickly on the cheek. „But that's who you are.”  
Greg chuckled and kissed Sherlock's head hugging　him tightly again.  
„Fine, insult taken. Do you want to come home?”  
„No. You like it here, you haven't seen John lately. Just... Let me stay here.”  
Lestrade nodded and leaned against the wall holding the detective safe in his arms.  
„Of course, Lock.”

 

***

An illustration made by Gwydion-chan:


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of Holmes brother this time. Still the same verse. 
> 
> published also on my deviant.

Mycroft was calm as always. He stood in front of Lestrade, watching him carefully - he knew everything about the Inspector, and now he was adjusting the files to the living person. Sherlock felt almost jealous.

“You will never do this again, sir.” his voice echoed in the empty storehouse. “I have to _protect_ Sherlock. You can't just _kidnap_ me when you think this is required! I would be all right, we would solve it without this whole _situation_.”  
While Lestrade was speaking, Sherlock watched his brother,noticing something odd in his brother’s behaviours. But he could recognise it; he knew very well what it was, because he saw the same face in the mirror sometimes.

“Lestrade, enough,” he cut off Greg's tirade, not taking his gaze away from his brother. “Leave.” He addedwhen Lestrade shot Sherlock a confused glance.

Greg blinked with a surprise while Mycroft looked at Sherlock calmly. The brothers stayed silent and Inspector left without any word. There was something strange about them, something he would not understand. Some... Holmes' thing.

They were watching each other in silence. Long after Lestrade left Sherlock opened his mouth.

“You fancy him” he said in surprise, but he was absolutely certain in what he saw.

Mycroft let the small smile appeared on his face and he shifted his weight on the other leg.

“I only appreciate what Inspector is doing for you,” Mycroft dismissed.

Sherlock shook his head. “No, you fancy him.”

“Yes?” Mycroft spoke, raising his chin in a challenge. “And?”

“Caring is not an advantage,” the younger Holmes said, repeating words he heard all too often from his brother.

“It's my weakness, dear brother. None of us are perfect.”

Mycroft's words fell in the silence. Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek, this was something of a very delicate matter. He watched his brother carefully, he could never read him clearly, but seeing him now, he noticed a lot of things he saw in himself very often. Before Lestrade happened, Mycroft was like a mirror, and Sherlock turned away not waiting to see himself like this. It was not him.

He left without a word, joining Lestrade before the building.

“Are you okay?” The Inspector asked, and Sherlock nodded taking his hand.

“Come home,” he said, leading Lestrade away and back in the direction of home.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thanks to Black-Rose-117 for beta :)

_I'm so sorry, Sherlock but I have to stay longer at work. Paperwork. We need to cancel our date.- GL_  
   
 _Well, don't be. It's only a meeting. –SH_  
   
 _No, it wasn't. It was a date, Sherlock. And I was really looking forward to it. –GL_  
   
 _Finish your work, will you? And just come home. I don't see any reason to act like something happened. – SH_  
   
   
Greg came late that day. He stayed longer to finish paperwork because the month was ending and his boss wanted all reports, and Greg promised himself he really would start to write those reports on time.  
   
He felt especially bad because this was the day they were supposed to go out – Sherlock rarely agreed for such a thing, mostly because Mycroft could watch them, but this day the elder Holmes was out of London and they had a chance to celebrate – but it ended up like this; a silent flat, single light on in the kitchen and Greg feeling guilty.  
   
He stopped in the living room instead of going to the kitchen – there were two boxes with Chinese food on the coffee table and a bottle of beer.  
   
“You're back.” He turned his head, hearing Sherlock's voice.  
   
“Yeah, sorry-”  
   
“Don't.” The young detective cradled a mug of hot tea in his hands as he came to the couch and sat down on it. “It doesn't matter. I have a deal. I'll eat with you if you watch a film with me.”  
   
Lestrade almost asked 'what?' but stopped himself. Sherlock Holmes proposing that he will eat a meal? Bloody hell...  
   
The light tension in Sherlock's shoulders told Greg that the younger man was not that sure what he was doing, so he just nodded and took off his jacket and shoes and sat down next him – close but not too close.  
   
“What are we watching?”  
   
Sherlock stood up a bit awkwardly and took theDVD case which was lying next to telly.  
   
“ _Bees' Queen_ ; it's a document about bees.” He said.  
   
Greg watched his bent back while he was placing the DVD in the DVD player. He didn’t say a word, afraid that he would startle Sherlock.  
   
Apparently, the young detective just arranged a date, and Greg was more than happy to have it. He took his beer and his takeaway and handed Sherlock his box – noticing that there is a big difference between how much food was in his compared to Sherlock's – when the man came closer to the couch.  
   
They sat semi-comfortably - still sort of awkward- and Holmes pressed 'play'. The film about bees was not quite what Greg would like to watch, but at first he was more occupied with the food than watching the documentary – he was grateful Sherlock gave him some of his pasta because he was starving – and then, when he sighed with contentment, Sherlock shifted closer to him and pressed his back to Greg's chest to let the other man wrapped an arms around him.  
   
They sat like this – Sherlock with his legs up to his chest, eating slowly, taking long sips of his tea, Greg half turned to telly, holding Holmes close – for almost a half an hour.  
   
At the end of the evening, Greg was almost happy he had to spend so much time at work, because that was probably the best date he had ever been on.


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by:
> 
> by Gwydion

The flat was oddly quiet. The door opened when Greg pushed them lightly. He walked into the room and looked around. Nothing. The messy living room was empty so he entered Sherlock's bedroom – only to find him sitting on the mattress with his hands raised to his mouth. Finger tips caressed his lips lightly when he was looking at the ceiling with a quiet interest.   
Gregory came closer to him not even getting a look from the younger man. He knelt beside him finally catching his attention.   
“I was bored” Sherlock said, his voice lazy, higher than normal. “And now I'm not. I've done something nice for myself. You always said I should do so.”   
“Not in this way.” Greg gritted his teeth. “And you bloody well know it.”  
A short laugh escaped Sherlock's mouth. He looked at the man closely and smiled even wider - that was a sick, unnatural smile.  
“Why everybody is against me when I just want to be happy?” He asked reaching to Greg's cheek.   
The ghostly touch made Gregory shiver. He swallowed - the visible sign of how much he felt attached to the young man - and picked up the syringe from the floor.   
“Sometimes I think you don't want to be happy...” He said sadly and stood up. “I'm going to call your brother, he has to start to take better care of you.”  
He stood over Sherlock for a few more seconds, the younger man was smiling now, immersed in pleasant thoughts, and then he walked back to the door.   
“Do you know what do I hear right now?” Sherlock's question caught him by the door.   
Lestrade half turned to him.   
“What?”  
“Nothing. It's quiet here.” He touched his temple. “It's not working. Finally.”  
“I tried to contact you, to ask for help. We have a case, Sherlock. A big one. You did not answer your phone, I thought something was wrong...”   
There was no answer from Sherlock and Gregory left the room more sad than disappointed.


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by:
> 
> by Gwydion

Sherlock was playing with a piece of a cake on his plate with an annoyed frown. He was not hungry, he was not enjoying Lestrade's presence, he only wanted to be alone. And the worst part was that Lestrade was sitting next to him and was just watching him most of the time .   
“Stop looking at me, it's annoying.” He complained childishly. “I'm eating, what else do you want?”  
“Sherlock, I don't want to hurt you. It's for your best.” Inspector was honestly sad but Sherlock did not care.   
Mycroft dropped him at Lestrade's place earlier that morning, leaving him with one suitcase and a promise that if Sherlock tried to do anything 'improper' he would end up in a mental hospital. And if there was something Sherlock hated more then boredom these were hospitals. The house of all boredom.   
So he was here, sulking and eating dinner with Lestrade. Mycroft secured　a replacement for Lestrade in case he needed to stay with Sherlock. After the last time the Inspector found Sherlock in his flat with drugs again, Mycroft was not amused. He was angry, disappointed but mostly just tired. And maybe Sherlock would have pity on him if his brother had not threatened him with hospital. In this case he had no feelings towards his brother. Lestrade on the other hand was a victim as well as Sherlock. He could not say anything – sentiments were such an ugly thing...  
They finished the dinner eventually and young Holmes walked out into the small living room and sat down on the couch. Lestrade's place was small – a tiny living room shared with a kitchen, a bathroom and a small bedroom – what made it very similar to Sherlock's. Inspector's phone buzzed and after a short conversation – Sherlock knew Lestrade was going to go back to work – he stood in front of Holmes.  
“I have to leave, sorry. Please, try not to...”  
“Take me with you.” He cut him off.   
“No.” Lestrade shook his head. “Mycroft...”  
“Screw Mycroft, I want to go. You can't leave me here and you said I can't come with you if I'm high. I'm not, so why not?” He shrugged looking up at him.  
The Inspector hesitated but there was no time and he really prefered to have an eye on the younger Holmes; he was really afraid of what Mycroft could do to avenge his brother.   
“Okay. Come.”  
Sherlock stood up, took his coat and walked out of the flat like it was him, not Lestrade who was leading here.


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To tell the truth behind this one stand only the need of half naked Sherlock. Nothing more in it, really.

Sherlock was standing in front of Lestrade, blushing. Lestrade blinked in surprise, Sherlock was actually blushing! They stood motionless – Sherlock in the bedroom, Gregory in livingroom – and stared at each other; Holmes was frozen to the spot with his shirt undone. His skin was pale with blue veins visible underneath, his cheeks pink under Greg's gaze. The DI stood with his hand still on the handle and finally dropped his head.  
“Sorry,” he murmured, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn't mean to.”  
Sherlock blinked but started to button the shirt up. “I thought you were out at work already,” Holmes said, trying to sound normal.  
“Well, yeah, but I tried to call you about the case and you didn't answer the phone so I thought-” He paused than, after a few moments, he shrugged. “That something happened. I'm glad you were only in the bath.”  
He was always wondering when Sherlock did things like taking showers or eating because, most of the time, when Greg was at home, Sherlock seemed not to need it. Now he had his answer.  
“You thought I may be high again,” Holmes said coldly.  
“Can't blame me,” Lestrade shrugged and looked at the younger man again. “So, ready?”  
“For what?”  
“A murder. Parents and older child dead, only their youngest survived.”  
“They're the killer than,” Sherlock said and hurried our of the bedroom, taking his coat. “Hurry!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by:  
>   
> by Gwydion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Erephen for beta!

Sherlock stopped with the phone in his hand, looking at Lestrade. The Inspector was sitting in the armchair with a glass of whisky in his hand. 

“Lestrade,” The man raised his head, “Leave it, I need your help.” 

“What do you want? Couldn't it wait until tomorrow?”  
“You are drunk? Again? This has to stop.”  
”Don't concern yourself with things you don't understand, pretty boy. Why do you even care?”  
”Because I love you, you stupid bastard.”

Lestrade scoffed but drowned his next comment in the glass. He was pissed off, yes, and he had a really bad day, his boss was a bloody prick and he could not solve the bloody case, but none of those were a reason for him to say mean things to Sherlock. Especially when he only wanted to help. Greg owed him at least this - decency and patience. He sighed. That was his bloody problem too - he bloody cared for people. 

“Lestrade,” Holmes walked near to him and took the glass out of his hand. “You stop drinking right now, go to take a shower and go to bed,” He ordered. 

And Greg smiled at himself thinking how stupid he was; how bloody stupid and miserable and how pathetic he was sitting here and wanting Sherlock to scoff at him only if this meant he cared. How pathetic...

“Lestrade!” 

Inspector stood up and walked slowly to the bathroom. He rarely had days like this, usually he remembered that he is the one who has to be strong, he always was. When it came to his wife, when it came to work, even to Sherlock. And sometimes... He was just too tired. 

The hot water was a blessing; he took a deep breath, dropping his head and letting the water run along his neck and back. Stop drinking, shower, bed. Sherlock rarely was that caring. And he visibly did not feel good with it. So Greg should not force him to do so. He should be the one Sherlock can rely upon, not the other way. 

With a sigh Lestrade washed and walked out of the bathroom. He felt tired and sick. He was pathetic. 

Sherlock was standing in the kitchen, Inspector went to him and almost gasped - the young detective was pouring the twelve years old whisky into the sink. And there were two other bottles waiting. And Sherlock found even these which Lestrade hid in his wardrobe. Sherlock - obviously - found every bottle of alcohol hidden in the flat.

“Sherlock?”

“I'll go with you tomorrow and I'll help you with the case” Holmes said, not stopping his work. “We'll solve it and I don't want to hear any more about you being stupid, weak or pathetic” He looked at the Inspector. “You look miserable, Lestrade, I can tell what you were thinking by only looking at you.” 

Lestrade smiled weakly. Yeah, that was his detective, wasn't it? 

“Fine” he answered sitting at the table. 

“You're less an idiot than everyone else and I can work only with you. That means you're not that bad. Besides, you can think, even if sometimes you don't see obvious things.”

This time Lestrade just laughed; only Sherlock could try to comfort someone saying him that he is an idiot. 

The last bottle was empty and Sherlock washed his hands and turned to Gregory. 

“Go to bed, I'll join you in a minute.”

Once he lied down, the dark thoughts came back. Sherlock was not a type of man who would stay with someone and it was almost obvious for him that the young detective would one day leave him. Not because he does not care about Greg, no; he would leave because he does not like being stopped. He needed change, he needed new people, he needed someone who would stimulate him, and Lestrade? What could he do for him? He covered his eyes with his arm and sighed. He was an old, pathetic prick who could not even manage a marriage. A wreck. 

Sherlock slipped into the bed next to him and wrapped his long arm around Greg's torso. 

“You're a great person and I love you,” he whispered.

Gregory took a deep, shaky breath. That was probably the best thing he had ever heard. He nodded and huged him tightly. 

“Thank you...”

“I always thought that you do not _thank_ people, but just say 'love you too' or some similar nonsense,” Sherlock chuckled.

Lestrade hide his face in the black curls and smiled.

“I love you Sherlock.”

“Then go to sleep.” 

Holmes padded himself on Greg's chest like big cat and closed his eyes, although Lestrade did not think the young detective would fall asleep. It was nice to have him near though, so he jut kissed his head and after some time he was sleeping calmly. 

 

Gregory opened his eyes when he felt the sunlight on his face. It had to be late and he felt Sherlock's lean body lying behind him, one arm wrapped around his waist. He sighed happily and shifted his hand - heavy and still very warm from the sleep - at Sherlock's smaller, with longer fingers. 

“Good morning” the young Holmes murmured in the back of his neck. 

“Morning.”

Lestrade raised Sherlock's hand to his lips and kissed him lightly. 

“Are you okay?” the detective raised on his elbow to see Greg's face. 

“I'm now” Inspector said with a light smile. 

“Good. We have a work to do. Get up, I'll make you breakfast.”

Holmes took his hand brushing it against Lestrade's cheek and stood up. Greg turned at his back watching the detective leaving. He smirked and sighed. 

Yes, he probably promised Sherlock that he will take him to the Yard... Bloody hell, this will be tough day. 


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ispired by 
> 
> By Gwydion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Chip for beta!
> 
> When the whole thing was still new for Sherlock...

The cup was hot against his cold fingers as Sherlock watched Lestrade's smile through the steam. At first he found him a parka with fur on the hood and now he gave him a cup of coffee; the night was bloody cold and Sherlock's coat was perfect for the autumn, but not for the night frost, so for most of the time during the investigation on the crime scene – Lestrade finally started to take him with him – he was freezing. And then, when they took a break so others could pull out the body from the river, Lestrade brought him a parka and now a cup. For Sherlock, it was still new to him that someone was actually taking care of him.  
“It's your coffee, just how you like it," said Lestrade with a grin on his face. “Sherlock, you okay?”  
The worry in his voice and the happiness on his face made Sherlock wonder if he really knew Lestrade. He seemed...really happy being around Sherlock; no one ever was happy about being around him.   
After few more seconds he nodded, taking a sip of his coffee, blushing lightly as he dropped his gaze. Inspector's care gave him new, funny emotions that he both liked it and felt ashamed of.   
Fortunately, before Lestrade could say anything else, Donovan shouted at him. He walked towards her, giving Sherlock time to get used to this new feeling.


	12. A glimpse of nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a random scene from the beginning of Sherlock and Gregory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm looking for beta for my (mostly) Sherlock fanfictions.

„Have you seen him?” Donovan leaned to her colleague. „Who is this man?”  
„Some junky.” Anderson shrugged taking a sip of his coffee and peeping into Sally's cleavage.   
She observed the man for a moment and slowly shook her head.   
„No... He's been standing there for almost an hour. I'm telling you, it's something.”  
They were observing a tall young man, a student probably, standing outside the Yard and waiting in an old jacket; he was pale and very skinny, his face looked almost demonic with the high, sharp cheekbones. He was waiting there, watching the main entrance.   
“Oh come on, Donovan, the break is almost over and I wanted to buy one more coffee.”   
“Wait. Look.” She nodded towards the window. He came closer to her and looked outside.   
Lestrade came out and walked to the man. They were talking for a moment.   
“Does Lestrade know him?” Anderson wondered.   
“Yes...” Sally smiled a little. “They know each other very well, look.”   
Lestrade took off his coat and put it on man's shoulders. They were talking for a moment longer, Greg brushed his hand over the stranger's cheek and then the younger man left.   
Sally and Anderson looked at themselves.   
“That was unexpected...” She smiled.   
“Fucking faggots.” Anderson shook his head and walked to the door. “Come on, our coffee, remember?”  
She followed him. 

Sherlock waited before Yard feeling more than stupid. He was tired, just the day before he left hospital and he still felt weak. He escaped Mycroft to see Lestrade, it was him who brought him to the hospital. Sherlock felt like he owed the detective and that was something new. Eventually Lestrade walked out. Sherlock tensed watching him close. Lestrade was a strange man of very strong character but very a good heart and Sherlock still didn't figure him out.   
“I wasn't expect you here.” The detective smiled. “When have you left the hospital?”  
“Yesterday.”  
They stayed like this for a moment or two before Lestrade sighed.   
“You should have stay at home. You're shaking.” He insisted and took off his coat to cover Sherlock's shoulders with it.   
“I'm fine.” Holmes snapped but didn't take it down. “I came...” Sherlock bite his lip. “To thank you.” He added with hesitation. “I suppose I need to. This is what social relations require, don't they?”  
Lestrade did it again – he wasn't angry or irritated or even didn't make fun of him - he smiled it his weird way like he knew what Sherlock wanted to say and he touched his cheek. Sherlock moved away because of the feeling he had and dropped his gaze.   
“It's fine, I'm glad you're alright.” Lestrade assured.   
“You're at work.” Holmes said and moved away. “See you later.”   
Lestrade watched him for a moment and then came back to the Yard. Sherlock didn't turn back but he still wore the coat so he put his hands in the sleeves and shoved fists into the pockets. It smelled like Lestrade and a small smile appeared on Sherlock's lips. Lestrade was always different and despite they knew each other he could still surprise Sherlock.


End file.
